Don't You Remember
by swishandflick7
Summary: When their life is thrown into turmoil, how will this couple go on?
1. The Calm Before The Storm

"Waiting is painful. Forgetting is painful. But not knowing which to do is the worst kind of suffering."

Hermione turned the last page of her book and closed the cover, sighing in contentment with another book completed. She looked at the walls of her study, covered in books ranging from fictional romantics to wizarding encyclopedias, and of course, _Hogwarts, A History_.

"Oh!" Hermione exclaimed in surprise as her eyes jumped to the clock on her desk. Draco should be home soon, and she hadn't even started dinner!

Jumping up and running to the kitchen, she took a quick look at herself in the mirror in their front hall. Her mass of bushy hair had calmed as she aged, and was settled brown ringlets framing her face. The dark circles under her eyes were pronounced from years of reading in low light. Hermione smoothed her clothes with hands dry from continual washing—hygiene was not taken lightly in the field of medicine, even in the magical world—and continued on to the kitchen.

Checking the clock again, Hermione realized that she would have to conjure up dinner magically. She normally would try to cook dinner for herself and Draco, as she had done for a great majority of her life, but tonight she just didn't have time.

Pots and pans whirled around each other in a chaotic dance, but not a single collision occurred. In less than 15 minutes, dinner was ready.

And as if the finale to the entire production, Draco appeared in the fireplace with a loud crack.

"I'm home," he crowed as he dropped his bags heavily on the floor.

"Hello, honey," said Hermione, barely looking up from setting the table. "Anything interesting happen at work today?"

"It seems Old Man Weasleby's gotten himself appointed Minister of Magic," said Draco with a chuckle.

"Draco!" Hermione admonished. "Can you really not stop that?"

"Fine. But you have to admit," Draco was cut off by another sharp glare from Hermione, and decided to move on. "Other than that, just another _glorious_ day of paperwork."

"This was what you signed up for when you became an Auror. With Voldemort dead and most of his followers too scared to try anything, there can't be much left for you to do."

"Yes, yes, I know. Now what is this delicious smell I smell?" Draco got a mischievous grin on his face and wrapped his arms around Hermione's waist, dragging her over to the dinner table.

Both laughing heartily, they sat down and ate together.

Later that night, Hermione and Draco were getting ready to go to bed. Hermione picked up a book from the pile on her bedside table and cracked the spine, getting ready to delve into the latest volume of _Magical Maladies_. Draco had settled down in the covers, obviously trying to sleep. He punched the pillow into shape, laid down, and then punched the pillow again. Giving up, he pulled the pillow over his head and the covers up to his chin. Still not satisfied, he threw off the covers and pillow and turned around to face Hermione, who had been oblivious to his entire ordeal.

"Notice anything?" Draco snapped.

"Yes," replied Hermione coolly, not looking up from her book. "A great floundering in our bed, in case you didn't notice."

"Well there wouldn't be any floundering if you would just turn off that bloody light! It's sort of hard to get any sleep with it on, in case _you_ didn't notice." Draco threw Hermione's words back into her face.

"You know I have to read this for work," said Hermione.

"And _you _know that I must get a good night's sleep to be productive in _my_ work. So could you please just turn out the light? You read fast anyway. What's one night off going to hurt?" Draco was becoming more irritated.

"You're always doing this!" Hermione exclaimed, finally snapping the book shut and turning to face Draco.

"Doing what?!"

"You always think that just because you're an Auror and you work for the Ministry, that your job is more important than mine!"

"That's because it is!"

"I save people's _lives_ every day, Draco. Neville gets to know the parents he never had as a child now. Because of me!"

"Well it's because of people like me that horrendous people like that are found and taken care of!"

"And if they're doing _such_ a great job, then why are people still getting cursed? Why do we have to find new spells and potions to counteract the ever-growing amount of dark curses? WHY, DRACO? TELL ME. WHY?"

"That's it," Draco said. "I'm done. I'm going home."

"Home?" screeched Hermione. "Home?! Your father's in Azkaban because of his actions, your mother's a shell of what she was, but you want to go _home_? _This_ is your home!"

"No, Hermione. I'm done. _We_ are done."

And with that, Draco rolled out of bed, and taking the clothes from that day, he apparated to Merlin knows where.

"Bloody hell," murmured Hermione, who replaced her book on her bedside table, turned off the light, and went to sleep.

**A/N: So, first chapter! Yay! I'm sorry it was so short, but the other chapters will be longer. I hope you liked it, and please review!**


	2. A Grave Accident

**A/N: This story takes place about 7-12 years after the Battle at Hogwarts.**

Hermione woke up in the early hours of the morning. Feeling the cold, empty space in the bed beside her, she recalled her argument last night with Draco. It had escalated so quickly in such a short amount of time. Neither of them really knew how much anger was hidden beneath the surface. But Hermione was just so _tired_ of her job being devalued. So what if Draco was a big, fancy Auror? As long as people were stupid and careless with magic, which they always will be, Healers will always be needed!

Having mentally justified her point in the argument, Hermione rolled out of bed and walked into the bathroom. She started to brush her teeth when she realized that the toothpaste she and Draco shared was missing. Confused, Hermione pulled a second tube from under the sink.

Brushing her teeth, Hermione walked into the adjoining closet to pick out her outfit. She turned on the light and her jaw dropped open, toothbrush and toothpaste falling out of her mouth.

The once-full closet was now half-empty. All of Draco's things were gone. The only things left were some winter coats in a box with a note saying, "I'll be back to get these."

_He wasn't joking_, thought Hermione. _He's really moved back to Malfoy Manor._

That realization hit Hermione like a 1000 pound brick, and she sank to the floor of the closet with the weight of it.

She sat like that for the next hour, until her alarm clock went off to wake her up for work. Like a zombie, Hermione rose from her place on the floor and cut off the annoying alarm. She stumbled through her morning routine, not thinking, not feeling.

Several cups of coffee later, Hermione still was not able to focus on anything she did, and, being afraid that her removed state would affect her work, she sent a letter to St. Mungo's informing them of her absence today.

Having sent her owl off with the letter, she sank back in the old, weathered armchair and stared into the blazing fire.

Draco woke up in his adolescent, though extravagant, bed in his old room at the Malfoy Manor. He took a precursory glance around his surroundings and took in the gothic décor. Gray and black were the main colors, and the air was cold and stale. Draco sighed woefully, missing the warmth of his and Hermione's house.

"Rigby?" Draco called the old house elf into the room.

Before long, an elf with an oblong head, golf ball eyes, and wrinkled skin appeared in the doorway.

"Yes, Master Draco?"

Draco winced. Living with Hermione had taught him to think differently about the house elves.

"Please, Rigby, it's just Draco."

Rigby nodded in assent.

"Would you please bring in some coffee?"

"Yes, mas-, Draco."

Within minutes, Draco was settled in bed with the marble fireplace ablaze and a cup of coffee in his hand. Taking a sip, he recoiled at the bitter taste. His father had always drunk very strong coffee, and Draco never had an affinity for it, but Hermione introduced him to the many flavored creamers in the Muggle world, and now could not live without coffee.

Sighing, he went to place the coffee on the bedside table, but discovered that it was on the opposite side of the large bed. Finding that reaching across the bed to set down the coffee, Draco bent over the side of the bed and put the coffee on the floor. This motion has pulled the sheets from the end of the bed and they were now in a jumbled heap.

Now thoroughly frustrated, and quite awake, Draco got up and, "Damn it!" cried Draco. He had knocked the coffee over.

Rigby, hearing the racket, poked his head through the door. "Does Draco need any help?" he asked.

"No, no. Thank you, Rigby. I can handle this by myself."

And with a wave of his wand, the spilt coffee was cleared away, the bed was made, and the bedside table was switched to the other side of the bed. Draco only wished he had a chance to start the entire morning over.

Alas, he had to get to work, however tired he was, and however bored he was bound to be.

Hermione spent the day losing herself in her books. Having gone through all of the educational volumes and finding that they did nothing to remove her from her present state of mind, she turned to the multiple romantic fictions that cluttered her shelves, many of them involving swashbuckling buccaneers who had a habit for ripping their shirts off.

She read and enjoyed her entire collection of these fluff novels, yet felt no more cheerful than she had when she had woken up that morning. Yes, these fictional men were suave, charming, and certainly handsome, they had no substance. That was one of the many things Hermione appreciated about Draco.

He was never the type to baby her, or insult her intelligence. He respected and challenged her, but still found ways to be romantic, suave, _and _charming.

"Merlin, I miss him," sighed Hermione. "Is it too early to send an owl?" she wondered. "Or maybe I should just go in person… No, I couldn't do that. I'll write the letter. That should be fine. Right?"

So Hermione sat down at her antique writing desk with fresh parchment, ebony ink, and her finest quill and began to draft her letter.

It was midday at the ministry, and Draco was as bored as he had predicted, if not more.

_This has to be one of the slowest days I've worked,_ he thought.

"It shouldn't be this slow for much longer though," remarked a cheerful voice from over Draco's shoulder.

He jumped at the sudden noise and turned around to see his co-worker Rolf Scamander standing at his massive height of 6'6" and wearing his customary tweed suit, today in a mustard yellow color. Recovering from his shock, Draco looked up—and looked up he did indeed—and asked, "How did you know I thought today was slow?"

"Oh, it was all in your body language, mate," replied Scamander. "The slouched posture, the resting elbow," he paused, "the heavy-lidded eyes?" Rolf winked as he said this last part.

Draco, somewhat disgruntled at having been caught in the act of detesting his work bristled and moved on.

"So what's going on that's going to be so interesting, huh?" Draco asked.

"Word is there's been outbreak of short-term memory loss in a small wizarding colony south of Welling. The uppers suspect it's some dark wizards causing a little mayhem, and they assigned you specifically to the job."

"Ok, thank you Scamander, I'll be sure to get on that," Draco said, dismissing the optimistic wizard.

_Really?_ Draco thought to himself. There had been several outbreaks of "short-term memory loss" in many small colonies all over Britain. In almost every case Draco had investigated, the trouble had centered around a local pub serving too much firewhiskey, and—in the odd case—exploding lemonade.

But, his supervisors had assigned him a task, and anything would be better than sitting in this office any more today.

Well, _almost_ anything…

Hermione had just finished her letter to Draco. 3 hours _after_ she had started writing it. Several rewrites later, she was ready to send her owl off to the Ministry, but when she arrived at her owl's typical perch near the window, she found it empty, with no obvious sign of where the owl had gone. Hermione searched high and low for the absent bird however, it was not until she returned to the perch by the window that she caught sight of it.

"Athenos! Where have you been?" Hermione started to scold the owl for disappearing when she noticed a small piece of parchment attached to its leg.

Her heart started pounding. Was it possible that Draco had summoned their owl for the purpose of sending her a letter, the very thing she herself was getting ready to do? Hermione dropped the letter she was planning to send in order to untie the owl's letter. Her hands were shaking badly that it took several attempts at the neatly tied knot before it came undone and she was able to read the letter.

At first glance her heart sank. It wasn't from Draco. She would've recognized his handwriting, and this was not it. The top of the parchment said, St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, and read as such:

_Miss Granger—_

_Your presence is required immediately at St. Mungo's. There has been a grave accident that requires your medical expertise and is best treated as quickly as possible. Please report directly to Fourth Floor: Spell Damage_

_—Healer Pye_

At the bottom of the parchment was another note in a different hand.

_Granger, I don't care if you're "sick," you better get your butt into work today or everyone will be paying for it. We need you, babe._

_XOXO, Isobel_

Isobel MacDougal. Former Ravenclaw student from the time Hermione and Draco were at Hogwarts, Hermione's co-worker and best friend. Aside from Ginny, of course.

Hermione chuckled at Isobel's note, but soon sobered up. "A grave accident" wasn't something to laugh about, and usually Healer Pye wouldn't call her to work when she took a day off. Hermione only hoped that she would be able to focus on her work, rather than Draco, and apparated to St. Mungo's.

When she reached the fourth floor—the floor for unliftable jinxes, hexes, and incorrectly applied charms, etc.—everything was in complete chaos. Healers rushed around the halls with their respectively assigned Trainee Healers dogging at their heels, followed by family member anxious to receive news about their loved ones.

Hermione spotted Isobel from across the room, standing behind the welcoming desk. Isobel was obviously stressed, and Hermione could she how much she was holding back as Isobel explained once again, "No ma'am, you may not bring your puffskein into the visiting room as it may cause an allergic reaction. Ma'am, please control your child!"

The child in question was currently zooming around on a model broomstick he had recently received as a birthday present and adding more commotion to the already hectic waiting room.

Hermione waved at Isobel to catch her attention, and when Isobel saw her, she smiled a relieved grin and beckoned Hermione over to the desk.

"Hermione! So I see you're not sick at all," remarked Isobel with a smirk. "And you can tell me all about whatever happened that made you stay home from work later, but now, we are in desperate need of our most prized healer?" Isobel's voice trailed up at the end of the sentence, but flattery would only get her so far.

Hermione grinned. "What's happened?" she asked.

"To tell you the truth, I'm not exactly sure," said Isobel, "Healer Pye wouldn't tell me, but it's something bad enough to make him call you in from home. Oh, and speak of the devil. Hello, Healer Pye, I have someone for you!"

"Miss Granger! Thank Merlin. I need you to go to room 16C. I will be there in a few moments; I just need to clear up some things up with Miss MacDougal." Healer Pye greeted Hermione, then turned to continue business with Isobel.

Sensing that the conversation was over, Hermione headed off toward room 16C, at the end of the western-most hallway. The din from the waiting room grew quieter as she walked, until finally she reached the room.

The door was slightly cracked, but the shades inside were drawn, so all Hermione could see was the faint outline of a man in a hospital bed. She knocked on the door, but got no response. She was about to push open the door when Healer Pye reached out and lowered her hand.

"Before you do that," he said, "There is something you should know."

Hermione grew apprehensive at the cautionary tone in his voice. What was wrong with this man?

"We are currently unsure of the cause of his malady, which is why we have recruited you. However, if you feel you are unable to handle this assignment, I will understand completely and will delegate it to another healer. Do you understand?"

Hermione nodded and continued inside the room.

"Healer Pye," she started. "What exactly is his malady?"

"Well, he appears to be having some memory trouble."

_Memory trouble?_

"I'll see what I can do," said Hermione. "But, there are no guarantees. I'm going to wake him up. Would you mind opening the shades so I can better assess his condition?"

Healer Pye nodded and went about the task.

"Sir," said Hermione, looking down at the patient's clipboard, "my name is Healer Granger and, oh!" Hermione had chosen that moment to look at the man's face in the light and as she did, a very familiar pair of steely gray eyes looked back at her.

"Draco?!" There he was, Draco Malfoy, sitting in her hospital room. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm not quite sure and, pardon my asking, but, do I know you?"

**A/N: *Dramatic music plays...* So chapter 2 is up! It's a lot longer than the first one, and I think it's better too, but tell me what you think. Review!**


	3. A Mother's Grief

**A/N: How is Hermione going to deal with Draco's "situation?" Keep reading!**

* * *

Hermione gasped and turned around quickly. She just stood there for a moment, catching her breath and composing herself. Healer Pye gave her a sympathetic look and Draco coughed from the bed, reminding Hermione that she must do her job.

"Hello there. My name is Hermione Granger, and your name is Draco Malfoy. You have suffered the effects of multiple rogue memory-loss spells, and I am here to help you regain your memory. Is there anything you remember at all?"

Draco's face contorted in thought, struggling through the medicinal haze.

"Yes," he said after a minute or two, sounding just as surprised with himself as Hermione was. "I remember magic. You know, spells and such."

Hermione nodded. This was often the case in magical memory loss; a witch or wizard would be stripped of all memories except a basic knowledge of magic.

"Great," she said, trying to be enthusiastic. "Now, I'm going to step outside and talk to Healer Pye for a moment while you wake up a bit more. Is there anything else you need?"

"No, thank you," said Draco, and waved the pair off into the hall.

As soon as they got out of the room, Hermione let out a great sigh and her face crumpled.

"Nothing. He doesn't remember a bloody thing. Not about his childhood, Hogwarts, us…" She trailed off.

Healer Pye looked anxiously at her face, judging whether she was fit to take on this patient. Would it be too emotionally difficult?

"Don't you even dare think about taking this case away from me," she said pointedly, glaring at Healer Pye with the look of womanly determination. "I _will_ find out what happened to him. I _will_ find out how to reverse the spells' damage, and I _will_ get his memory back."

Once Hermione had her mind set on something, there was no going back, and Healer Pye knew this well. He decided that her emotional interest might even speed up Draco's recovery process—if anything would.

"Alright Miss Granger, but you must be warned not to get your hopes up too high. Mr. Malfoy may never regain his memory. The best you might get is to manually restore his memory bit by bit…" Another sharp glare from Hermione cut him off abruptly.

"Thank you Healer Pye, and I assure you, I will do my _very_ best." She gave Healer Pye a sweet smile and strode confidently back into Draco's room.

"Hello again, Mr. Malfoy," Hermione said to Draco. "I'm just going to do a few quick tests and ask a couple of questions if that's alright. Are you quite comfortable then?"

"Yes, yes," replied Draco. "And, you can call me Draco. Mr. Malfoy sounds like,"

_Like you're in a hospital being treated by a complete stranger instead of the woman who completely and totally loves you?_ Hermione thought bitterly to herself.

"Like I'm in school again. Did I go to school?" questioned Draco.

"Yes," said Hermione. "You attended Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for seven years. Graduated with top marks. Now, before we get carried away, I'm going to run through _my_ questions, and then we can get back to yours."

"Right," said Draco. "Ok then, what's first?"

"First we're going to run a few basic memory tests," explained Hermione, "which will determine the full extent of your knowledge and memory. Some of these tests will provide trigger words or images that we hope will spur some of your memories. You see, in traumatic events such as these, the memories are often still present, but are simply hiding in a different part of the brain, so to speak."

"That's a lot to take in, but I trust you. You seem to know what you're doing." Draco looked admiringly at Hermione.

"I do what I can," replied Hermione modestly.

"So, will you be administering these tests?" asked Draco.

"No. I do not have the training or specialization to deal in such matters, but I assure you I will closely monitor the results. You have nothing to worry about." Hermione reassured Draco, as he had begun to look anxious.

The relief on Draco's face was evident. Thanks to the memory curses, he was no longer the cold, unreachable Draco Malfoy, with the steel-plated armor. He was unguarded and wholly reliant on others. It was a rare form, even for Hermione, to see.

"How long will the tests take?" Draco was very inquisitive, also an uncommon sight.

"In order to give time for the results to be analyzed and compiled you, unfortunately, will have to spend a large part of the day on these tests."

There was a knock on the door. A Trainee Healer could be seen silhouetted in the glass window.

"Ah, and here is your escort," said Hermione with a pleasant smile. "Come in, Ethan!"

Ethan, the Trainee Healer opened the door and walked into the room, but stood near the doorway apprehensively.

"Draco, this is Trainee Healer Ethan. He will be taking you to the testing rooms and guiding you throughout the rest of the day. I trust you both will treat each other with utmost respect?" Hermione raised an eyebrow at both men, and they nodded solemnly, as if in primary school again.

"But wait," protested Draco. "Aren't you coming back, Miss Granger?"

"Yes, Draco, but I do have other patients that need to be taken care of. Having favorites just wouldn't do, would it?" She tweaked his chin like a young child and he was temporarily sated.

"I will be back tomorrow to check on your progress," said Hermione, before she marched out of the room with professional efficiency.

Hermione walked back down the long hallway to the reception room, almost rushing right past Isobel when she heard her name.

"Hermione. Wait!" Isobel was running up beside her, almost out of breath. "What was it? What happened?"

"Draco." Hermione gasped out. "Isobel, it was Draco. Draco was hit by rogue memory spells. He doesn't remember anything. Nothing at all. I have to go tell his mother. Tell Healer Pye."

Hermione's sentences were short and choppy. Having fulfilled her duty as a Healer, Hermione's calm composure was threatening to crumple, and she needed to get out of St. Mungo's before it did.

Luckily, Isobel understood and sent her on her way with a sympathetic look and a promise to explain to Healer Pye.

* * *

Hermione apparated as soon as she reached the perimeter of St. Mungo's and found herself in a small muggle neighborhood. The buildings were somewhat rundown and shabby, but underneath the grit and filth were beautiful architectural structures boasting of grander times.

Walking straight up to the third house on the right, Hermione mentally prepared herself for the speech she was about to give. How was she to go about telling Narcissa that her only son—only child—had lost all of his memory, and she was the only one available to fix it? _It's impossible, _she thought, and started to turn around.

"Yoo-hoo, Hermione!" A voice from the third floor window beckoned her.

Cassiopeia, Narcissa's other sister, was hidden from the wizarding world upon the discovery of her Squib status. Cassiopeia was nothing like her sisters. Shunned from her family at an early age, Cassiopeia was not subjected to the pressure of success from her family and status; she was free to live an almost uninhibited life. Narcissa, not wanting to live in Malfoy Manor alone, with the ghosts of its past haunting her, had moved in with her sister, both of whom had visited Hermione and Draco frequently.

"Hello Cassiopeia," called Hermione. "Is Narcissa home?"

"Why of course," cried Cassiopeia. "She's just downstairs! Should I tell her you're here?"

Cassiopeia was also bit eccentric in her speech and mannerisms.

"No need," replied Hermione. "Thank you."

Hermione strode up to the weathered wooden door and knocked confidently on it. Before long, she could hear footsteps approaching the door, and then it opened, revealing Narcissa Malfoy.

In the years immediately following the end of the war, Narcissa had had to deal with a husband fighting imprisonment in Azkaban, a son in desperate need of emotional counseling, and an empire that was crumbling around it. Hermione still remembered the first time she met Narcissa as Draco's girlfriend. Narcissa was impossibly thin, and her once beautiful hair was thin and limp. Dark shadows were ever-present on Narcissa's face, and she seemed to be decades older than she really was. Now looking at her, Hermione could see the benefits of living with Cassiopeia. Narcissa's slight frame had filled out, and her hair was now long and healthy. The dark circles were gone, and the only wrinkles on her face were those from her brilliant and frequent smiles.

"Hermione," Narcissa cooed, her face melting into one of those smiles at the sight of her son's girlfriend.

"Narcissa," Hermione returned, less warmly and with more seriousness; this was not a pleasure visit.

"Please," said Narcissa. "Come in." She opened the door wider and beckoned Hermione into the cheerful home.

Hermione entered.

"Would you like to sit down?" asked Narcissa.

"Yes, I do think that would be better," replied Hermione. "Now, Narcissa, I didn't come here for a visit. I have some, _news_ that you need to know."

Narcissa's face fell as she grasped the gravity of the situation. She had always feared that this would one day happen. She didn't expect the informant to be Hermione, but what did it matter. At least she was practically family, right?

"It's Lucius, isn't it," she asked. "Someone, in Azkaban. He's dead?" Her question was more of a statement, but was unconfirmed as Hermione shook her head solemnly.

"No, no, Lucius isn't dead. Narcissa, Draco was hit by several rogue memory spells and currently does not have _any_ memories. He is at St. Mungo's while we try to recover his memories. I was just informed of this this morning, and I figured that you would also like to know. I'm sorry, I don't know what happened."

With that, Narcissa dissolved into grief, and burst out into body-racking sobs. The display of emotion brought tears to Hermione's own eyes, but she refrained from crying herself. She had to be strong for Narcissa. Draco was her only child, and the light of her world.

"I'm doing everything I can to restore his memories, trust me. I'm sorry, Narcissa. I'll be back if there's any more news."

Hermione left the crying woman at the kitchen table and exited the house. Just before she apparated, she heard Narcissa's cry of anguish, "Draco!"

Arriving back at her flat, Hermione was too emotionally exhausted to do anything but heat some food from the previous night, satisfy her undernourished body, and sink into bed for another night of restless sleep.

* * *

**A/N: Yay! You've made it to the end of Chapter 3! I feel like I have a lot to explain, a few questions to clear up, etc. **

**First: Hermione and Draco's relationship. They were boyfriend and girlfriend (serious) and were just living together. They were not married (yet? (; )**

**Next: Narcissa. I tried to explain this the best I could in the story, but here's a more plain version. She lived in Malfoy Manor until Draco moved out and Lucius was in Azkaban, then she moved in with her "sister" (not part of HP, just something I made up.) Her sister is a squib, so she was thrown out of the family and made to live and grow up by herself. Therefore, she is much nicer, though a little quirky.**

**With that all cleared up, I realized that there really have not been a lot of old characters (i.e. Harry, Ginny, Ron) in this fic so far, but don't worry, they will be making an appearance in the next chapter. These first three chapters have all been pretty much setting up the story line so it can develop further.**

**I would also like to give a recognition to slytherinprincess9712, who reviewed chapter 2 of this story asking me to update. And I did. So if you would like me to update faster, please review, because it really inspires me and lets me know that you guys like it.**

**Sorry for the long A/N, but thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed the chapter!**


End file.
